


Between Burning Suns and Darkened Moons

by godtiermeme



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drabble, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Purple Prose, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 03:44:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17480516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtiermeme/pseuds/godtiermeme
Summary: Years after the fall of the Galra Empire, Keith and Lance take some time to reflect.





	Between Burning Suns and Darkened Moons

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never done a one shot before. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ There’s light cursing in the fic

They sit in the shadow of the inactive lion, its black hull now covered in vines. It has been a decade since it last roared; or spread its wings wide, to surge deeper into the depths of space; or fired its weapons. Ten years ago, the universe found a new peace, and the paladins found new purposes, but they never lost touch with one another. Their bond, which once spanned unreliable distances between literal worlds, has spanned years, too.

They sit before the light of another fall day, watching as golden rays filter through a forest canopy. Ten years ago, this was a Galra mine. The earth here was barren, the soil depleted of nutrients.

Voltron is a legend, now. Only ten years have passed, but it feels so much longer. Stores peddle figurines, which depict the mighty weapon and hero of Earth. Children, none of them old enough to have seen the battle, nor to have even heard of the news of the planet’s liberation, play with them.

“Tomorrow is Voltron Day,” mentions Keith, a small smile working its way onto his face. “Ten years ago, we freed the planet.”

“Yup.” Lance folds his hands behind his head. He lays in the grass and looks up, to the head of the robotic beast. “So, what? You want a medal?”

“We already got those, dumbass,” Keith laughs.

Lance smiles. He gave his medal to Marco; he felt no need to keep it. He proved his worth. He didn’t need a medal to remind him of that. He knows that Keith donated his to a museum.

“This way,” a voice whispers. “I told you all, I saw it! The Black Lion!” Leaves rustle, branches snap, and a dazed preteen stumbles from the foliage. He can’t be any older than nine, and a handful of children, some younger, but none older than him, follow behind him.

The children look, first, to the lion. Their eyes widen. They gasp. Then, they look to the two men.

The first to emerge from the brush speaks up. He rubs his nose, across which freckles are spotted, like stars, and puffs out his chest. “And just who do you two think you are!?” he demands, “We found it first!”

Keith and Lance exchange a bemused glance. While Keith maintains his composure, Lance can’t help but laugh.

While the world hasn’t forgotten him, it’s been at least five years since any of the paladins have been subject to the public's gaze. Everyone has moved on; everyone wants to leave the war behind. The older generation, and the young adults of today know who the paladins are, but children are different.

A low growl shakes the earth. For a brief moment, the lion’s eyes glow.

The children stumble back, but refuse to retreat.

Again, the leader speaks. “Who are you!?”

Lance smirks. “Ever heard of the Blue Paladin?”

“Pfft.” All the children laugh, and the leader rolls their eyes. “Of course. We’re not stupid.”

“That’s me.” Lance’s smile grows in proportion to the children’s skepticism. And, as they reach the peak of disbelief, he pulls something from his coat pocket. Light swirls around his hand, then, it forms an energy gun.

“It’s the Blue Paladin!” Murmurs spread through the small crowd.

Keith approaches. By now, he, too, is smiling. He stands alongside Lance, absentmindedly spinning his wedding band about on his finger. “And what about the Red Paladin?” As if on cue, there’s another rumble. The lion’s eyes glow briefly once more.

Now, the children are practically rioting. They run forward, surging like a wave. “Can I have an autograph?” asks one, shoving a pen and a Voltron figurine forward. “What was it like?” asks another.

The two men smile at one another. After tending to the children’s whims, and signing a few things, they beckon the group to come sit in the shade.

In the children’s eyes, Lance can see the spark of the future. He sees an earnest desire to learn, and a passion for what is right. He sees compassion, and the very hope that the universe had so desperately lacked before the war.

“Lance and I were actually enemies before Voltron,” Keith begins. The toughness in his tone has rounded off with time. His tone is soft and warm, and it speaks of the ideals he so passionately believes in. “Or, at least, that’s what this idiot said we were.”

“Yeah, well, you were my rival!” Lance points out. “Besides, I was so much better than you at everything, anyhow!”

“Sure. Whatever, Lance.” Despite his serious demeanor, Keith laughs.

And, from here, the two men speak of an age that, though not so long ago, has passed from the public memory. They tell of an Earth at war, its peopleunaware that an enemy even larger than themselves looms ever larger on the horizon. They speak of their battles and triumphs, and of all the time the Voltron team spent in space, so far from home, and of the peace they’d bring to planets once in the deepest pits of despair. And, above all, they speak of the friendships and bonds they formed as they, a gang of oddballs and misfits, traveled between burning suns and darkened moons.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at midnight on my phone, so HMU if you see typos. 👌🏽


End file.
